


Blessed With A Curse

by KilledByTheCoolKids



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 10, Deleted Scenes, Destiel - Freeform, Gay, Love, M/M, Missing Scene, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Romance, Season/Series 09-10, Torture, angel - Freeform, demon, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilledByTheCoolKids/pseuds/KilledByTheCoolKids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this fic takes place about 6 months after the season 9 finale and it starts with cas finding out for the first time since the finale that dean is not, in fact, dead. my plan for this fic is to have some hot and heavy destiel smut (maybe some light torture?) scenes as well as incorporate some fluff and love-y dove-y romance. </p><p>i have tried to make it as probable as i could and as true to the characters as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back in Black

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys so this is my first attempt at fic writing in the supernatural fandom and i'm really excited to share it with you all! please feel free to comment on things you like/don't like about this imagine (but being polite about your criticism is appreciated). this work is still in the process of being written so i appologize in advance for not having it all done and ready quite yet. i will be updating it and writing more whenever i have time so please be patient with me. 
> 
> this work is dedicated to my fabulous friend Taylor Campbell, who is the brilliant loser who helped motivate me to write this fic. thank you Taylor!
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> xx  
> carry on my time travelling detectives

Castiel was sitting alone in a rundown diner. He found he frequented them a lot more now, craving the comfort of smiling strangers with greasy mouths and even greasier plates; the sweat stained customers with coffee soaked hearts.

  
Cas pressed himself deeper into the stained fabric of a corner booth and stared blankly at the space in front of him. For months now he had been travelling to different diners up and down the country. At first he stuck to the ones he knew Sam and Dean had frequented, but soon he ran out of towns and ended up seeking out new alcoves, places and people they had never encountered before. He had found this diner just a few hours earlier after wandering on a dark lit highway off Virginia. He was sure Sam and Dean would have loved this one.

  
 _Dean would have loved this one._

Out front they advertised the best burger in the state and there were just enough town folk in there at all times to make the stains on the walls fade in your memory, the dingy tables replaced with smiling faces. The shabbiness of the place didn’t bother Cas, just like he knew it wouldn’t have bothered Dean. The marks on the door from other people’s boots made you feel less alone somehow. He couldn’t explain it but just the thought that someone else had shared in the experience of the place made you feel less alone. Strangely, the simple fact that the dirtiness on the floor was caused not from neglect but rather the hordes of boots that had trudged to an empty chair, made him feel safe and like he was a part of something. It didn’t matter what you were feeling when you came in because when you left you were a little less lonely.

  
Cas liked that about this place. Each new place he went helped him. It’s comforting to go to a diner because everyone seems to have a story that makes you feel like you’ve been there a lifetime even if you’ve just dropped in for a few hours’ rest.

  
Cas would have stayed in one place- one diner – the rest of his life, but he found he never could. He would sit down in a place and for hours, sometimes days and it would be beautifully idealized, as if he were stepping into a movie or drifting off to sleep. Unfortunately, nothing comforting seemed to last and the things that gave the diners charm and character became the things that later stuck out as hideous and morbid. The peeling wallpaper and disgusting stains were no longer something seen as art of the masses but rather destruction and degradation of yet another thing in the world. He saw that under the waitress’s polite smile was a broken woman with nowhere else to go. That the couple that sat in the front counter constantly bickered, and when their mouths opened they spewed venom and spittle at each other in a rapid rage, ignoring common courtesies.

  
Because of things like these Cas often fantasized about destroying the towns he visited. He fantasized about destroying the diners so they no longer displayed their despair like an open sore and so they could instead be forced to rebuild and become beautiful again. He wanted the waitresses and all the people in these diners to touch heaven so they could see that there was something better than what they had. That was when Cas would leave in search of a new place, new people, in hopes that the next place he went the beauty never gave way to desolation.

  
He was startled out of his thoughts as he felt a hand on his shoulder and a concerned “are you doin’ alright, sweetheart?” He looked up to find his waitress, Jessica standing next to him, all manicured nails and bouncing curls, fresh pot of coffee in her hands. She didn’t wait for an answer but instead poured him a fresh cup and brought him some cream and sugar, all the while pursing her lips in a smile filled with apology and forced reassurance. _I wonder if giving what they perceived as helpful looks was a job requirement,_ he thought.

  
Cas knew he was just biding his time until this Virginian diner became, like so many before, unapproachable, but for now he feigned drinking his coffee and continued watching the people at the other tables. He enjoyed seeing people about their average days, reading, laughing, and talking.

  
He was deep in thought thinking about a conversation he had overheard earlier between a man and his wife. He was wrapped up in their melodrama, fascinated by their exchange so much that he paid no mind to the soft jangling of bells and slight breeze that accompanied the opening of the door, nor did he hear the soft thump of boots or light squeak of them brushing the tile.

///////////////

Cas stayed with his head bowed in thought until a loud _crack_ startled him out of his reminisce. He looked up to see a demon with his back towards Cas bashing in the skull of a waitress. The bodies of the other customers were strewn about along with blood streaks on the floor, and the demon stood in the middle of this sea of blood and dead flesh. Cas was grateful that he had chosen to sit in one of the furthest booths from the front, opting for a position with a good view of, but little exposure to, the rest of the diner.

  
Cas continued to watch as the demon turned around. The monster’s shoulders quivered and his frame seemed to be vibrating in ecstasy as he turned to reveal a hideous grin, baring savagely his perfect teeth as if to emphasize the contrast of the white that interrupted the blood red that covered the rest of his face. His demonic eyes flashed and the effect made Cas’s thoughts flit to Frankenstein and the bold and terrifying thing that is fear of a new kind of monster.

He paused. There was something familiar about the face buried underneath this mask of blood and terror.

Cas took in a sharp breath as he stumbled backwards, startled in his realization. The jacket, the ever wide grin, the way in which he held himself, a mixture of power and awe…Cas knew who this thing standing before him was. _Who it couldn’t be_ ; who it had to be.

////////

It couldn’t be him. It must be a trick. A shifter, trickster or a demon just playing games with Cas, toying with him to see how much pain they could cause the already broken angel.

  
Cas gathered himself as best he could and hid in the shadows, willing himself to keep quiet. He crept as close as he could towards the monster, angel blade in hand and waited for the opportunity he needed. When he could no longer move without fear of being seen he focused his anger and teleported to a spot just behind the demon.

Swiftly his arms moved so that the blade dug into the soft flesh of the ugly thing’s neck, pooling a small stream of blood around the tip.

“Who are you?” Cas’s voice came out in a snarl, raspy and vicious and just a little wounded.

Sad laughter bubbled up from the monster’s throat, in thick, rolling streams. Castiel’s grip grew tighter and the blade sank deeper into the demon’s flesh.

“Who are you?” He said again, louder this time. You could hear the pain in his voice dripping off of every syllable as he spoke.

“C’mon, Cas, don’t recognize your old pal.” The demon smiled a large, lopsided grin, once again flashing his brilliantly white teeth, his eyes black pits of tar.

Cas went rigid and replied with a chilling loathing “You’re not him. Dean is dead. Stop this now! Just tell me who you are!” he shouted these last words, his blood running hot as he fought the urge to kill the creature right there.

More hideous laughter spewed from the demon. “Miss me, Cas?”

Cas reached into the pocket of his trench coat and grabbed a small silver blade which he then stuck into the creature’s muscular forearm. The flesh didn’t burn; not a shifter. Cas grew more concerned, but was satisfied that he had managed to draw a significant amount of blood from the slice of flesh his blade had torn.

 _Must be a demon_ , Cas mused, steadying the angel blade and reaching once more into his coat for supplies. He pulled out a flask of holy water and proceeded to pour it down the demon’s throat, propping the demon’s head up by digging the angel blade’s tip forcefully into his chin and dumping the contents of the flask deliberately down.

  
“Let him go now.” Cas said, looming above the demon. “ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…_ ”

  
The hideous creature didn’t even squirm under the force of Castiel’s words, but the holy water still burned like acid as it ran down the demon’s throat and dribbled off its chin.

Castiel slammed his fist into the already bloody cheek of the monster. This made a sickening crunch as his knuckles came into contact with the demon’s bones. Cas couldn’t bring himself to truly make a lasting mark on the thing, as he could see it only as Dean. He still held hope that Dean’s body was alive beneath the demon charade. What he didn’t plan on, however, was the possibility that there was no trick.

“Your daddy’s words don’t hurt me, sweetheart” the thing said, smile spreading wide across his face.

Castiel paused for only a fraction of a second to ponder this; truly curious about why the exorcism hadn’t worked. That was all that the demon needed. Gripping the angel’s bicep and removing it from the hold around his neck, the creature twisted Castiel’s arm back as he did so, elicited a deep cry from the angel.

Now, standing a good three feet away from Cas, the creature dubiously reached for holster on his thigh. He let out a laugh so loud and piercing it sounded like the smashing of glass. Castiel didn’t speak as he watched a blade of pure bone and hatred sliding through the leather. The instrument gently gliding across the roughness of the man’s jeans until the blade sat resting below his waist.

“Dean,” Castiel said, his thoughts swirling into something unimaginably light. he could feel a smile desperately tugging at his corners of his lips, relief washing over him like warm water. As he struggled to come to terms with his reality he was rudely flooded with the insidious realization of the situation. This was Dean. No monster; no impersonator. This was Dean and he was warped and twisted in a way Cas had never seen before. His soul has changed into a hideous beast that no longer resembled so much as the pinky finger of the man he once thought he knew. Cas felt like he was drowning. Like stale bath water, the warmth that overcame him became cold and uninviting.Nnow engulfing his entire being, the water forced its way down his throat and up his ears, taking him down the drain.

This could not be his hunter. He refused to believe this was all he was.

///////

Cas was unsure of what to do next. He eyed the man before him, glancing suspiciously at the blade Dean held in his hand. Cas was still unaware of the extent of the mark of Cain’s powers and to even think about moving right now to fight seemed unimaginable to him. His eyes travelled the length of the man who once called him family as his long lashes swept over every changed detail. He noticed the new way Dean wore his hair, styled, and admittedly not the worst thing to come from the tragedy. His eyes seemed to move over every freckle as Cas tried to savour this temporary pause in fighting. Feeling drained, his heart struggled again with the reality that his best friend was gone. Standing in front of him, but gone.

///////////

Too soon, Dean had Cas bloody and helpless tied to a chair.

  
“Oh, Cas, you really have fallen,” the demon’s mouth curled upward sourly as he spoke the words, the side of the First Blade smashing into the angel’s jaw. There was a sickening crunch of bone on bone but the angel refused to show Dean how much it hurt. The words, however, stung and Cas had to break eye contact, bite his tongue and clench his fists to avoid the pain of them. This elicited a fit of furious laughter that churned from the demon, who couldn’t help but notice Cas’s reaction.

“Sit tight, princess,” Dean chucked, “the fun hasn’t even started yet. See, all I’ve got right now is this blade,” he motioned to the First Blade, which he still held in his hand. “I mean, it’s nice and all but I’ve got an angel of the lord in my presence,” he bellowed, “and that means we’re bringing out the good silver!” He bowed mockingly and winked at Castiel.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart. Try not to get your wings in a twist while I’m gone.” The demon called over his shoulder as he walked out the back door of the diner.

////////////

Dean came barging in with a manic look in his eyes as he re-entered the diner, a duffel bag full of weapons in one hand, and a tiny radio in the other. He set them both down in a booth nearby the tied up Castiel. Opening the bag, he removed and displayed his weapons on the countertop of the table, arranging them like a surgeon’s tools. He then picked up the radio and turned it on. An Elvis song came blasting through the speakers, making Dean wince. Cas, however smiled weakly up at him, quoting both the name of the song and the album in which it appeared, thinking of how the old Dean would be proud of him for this pop culture knowledge, even if it was Elvis. Cas rambled on about the release date and the number it charted on the billboards, quoting diligently all he knew about that song, then about the album, then about Elvis. He droned out these words as a distraction to himself, a way to relieve himself from the present. Cas kept his mouth open in a constant hum of noise until the fury rose in Dean’s eyes as he marched over to Cas and stuck the knife he was currently holding into the thick flesh of Castiel’s arm. Dean turned away from Cas quickly and changed the station. “Back in Black” came shooting through the small speaker and into the ravaged diner. His back still facing the tools, Dean closed his eyes, listening to the music, letting it run through him. Slowly, the anger drained from his features and was replaced with a steady set jaw and an expressionless mask.

He was ready to work.

///////////


	2. Bad Company

Cas’s body was quickly stained with a seemingly endless supply of blood. The hot substance would drip down and sting his eyes, pouring out of gashes so big that would surely have bled him dry if he were human.

  
 _How cruel_ , he thought, _that his father could think up a punishment so terrible as immortality and force it upon his sons._

  
 _His soldiers_ , Cas corrected.

  
How many times had he prayed to His Father for the comfort and peace of death over the last years? If only He would listen. Instead, Cas was forced to endure the constant shock of flesh tearing and reforming as Dean used the angel’s rare gift of regeneration as yet another way of destroying him/ another blade to cut him by.

  
Cas felt destroyed, body and soul. His strength had quickly absolved and been replaced by a desperation; A hopeless succumbing to Dean’s insistence for bloodshed. So with the last of his energy, Cas raised his head to meet Dean’s harsh gaze. The now slightly duller blue of the angel’s eyes threw their own kind of daggers Dean’s way, searching again for a sign the man before him could be saved. A sign of the man he once loved and respected.

  
“It’s…okay, Dean…” Cas spit out the words along with the blood that was pooling in his mouth. Cas spoke softly, his voice rough “…It’s okay.”

  
Dean stopped momentarily, confused by the lack of anger in the angel’s voice.

  
“I’m happy to bleed for you, Dean, even die by your hand if that is really what you want. This changes nothing,” said the broken angel gruffly.

The sincerity in Cas’s voice caused cracks to form along the other man’s hard features, giving way to softer eyes. It was if a stone mason were chipping at his black marble irises. Dean’s sculptor surely was good at his job, because just glancing at Dean’s chiseled features sometimes jumped electricity up Cas’s spine without warning, sending mixed signals of pleasure and shock through the angel. He wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he enjoyed the feeling.

  
Just then Dean closed the small space between them, smoothly removing the blade that was stuck like a place holder just below Cas’s ribcage. Looking up at Cas just inches away, Dean’s eyes changed from their harsh black to a green that reminded Cas of emeralds and honey. He looked like the memories Cas keeps of him; strong and warm.

The intensity in Dean’s face was no longer harsh. The darkness inside of him faltered as he placed a firm hand on the back of Cas’s neck and pulled the weak angel towards himself. He felt Cas tense under the weight of his hand, but the angel didn't resist as Dean pushed his lips forcefully onto his own. Cas’s eyelashes fluttered in awe and a muffled sigh escaped his lips as he looked at Dean.

  
The kiss, slow and heavy, soon had Cas’s eyes drooping as he gave in to the lust he'd long suppressed. It was then that Cas started kissing Dean back, encouraging him to keep going. At this, Dean’s touch became softer and the pressure of his lips against Cas’s let up, becoming more controlled, and Cas parted his lips slightly as the wet slick of Dean’s tongue bumped over his teeth and moved to the heat of his own mouth.

  
They continued this way, unmoving, for what seemed like hours but was most likely only minutes, only breathing in each other until Dean finally broke away, teeth tugging lightly on Cas’s bottom lip. Cas used all of the strength he had left to separate himself from the beautiful man in front of him. The angel opened his eyes to see Dean’s still closed, his mouth hanging open slightly, a wet shine on his lips and the corners of his mouth where Cas’s tongue had been. At that moment, the freckles that spotted his nose and cheeks looked so much like the stars in the night sky that Castiel was overcome with the need to kiss every constellation he could find.

  
Cas's eyes fell back closed as he leaned foreword slightly with his lips pursed. His lips held there, suspended on air, anticipating but never touching those harsh cheekbones full of endless universes.

  
Opening his eyes, Cas saw Dean, broad shoulders hunched and strong, stalking away from him. Dean crossed the room until he stood in the middle of a sea of spilt blood and diner food adjacent to where Cas sat tied. Cas watched as Dean picked up an overturned bar stool and flung it across the diner. The metal of the chair skidding along the dirty floor before hitting the far wall with a clang and a smash, crumpling like the bodies on the surrounding linoleum.

  
Eyes wide, Cas began struggling with his ties, trying to wriggle free of the chains that kept him down; the chains that forced him to watch the man he loved tear his soul apart even further. He couldn't stand to watch Dean blame himself for things he couldn't change.

  
Just as Cas was slipping the last of the knots free, Dean turned back to him, holding him in place with a locked glance, his eyes tired and unsure, but steady.

  
Cas let the ropes he was holding fall to the ground.

  
Dean didn't look away.


End file.
